The forest was cold. Argo lay hidden within the carved out trunk of an old tree, wrapped in a thin blanket as winds cascaded around the forest. He shivered, staring out into the blackness of the night. His stomach growled in hunger, it had been two days since the last time Iri or Cinn had been able to come with food and the effects on his body had begun to show. His teeth chattered and he pulled the blanket closer around him.

His mind was a blank slate. Too much had happened since he saw his parent's death since that man left him kneeling in a puddle of their blood. Wren had been taken by the council and imprisoned. Iri had told him that they couldn’t bring a trial against him, that was something Wren was sure of. He would be out soon, still, Argo knew he would never again be able to return to live his ordinary life in Riverfell, Wren had thrown it away for him, and here he sat shivering. It was only by pure luck that hypothermia had not yet begun to attack him in earnest, the freezing night only lasted so long and he had enough protection from the ice cold winds to keep it at bay, if only barely.

Animals stalked the forest in the distance, the soft growls of a wolf pack stuck out to him. Winter was coming and the wolves of the north would begin to migrate around the least populated land, that was another threat he had to face.

Left alone, in that freezing forest, all Argo could do was hope that tomorrow someone would come to visit him. 

Of course, he wasn’t that lucky. The next day came and went without so much as a peep from any of his friends, not a single person came to his aid and he was left to walk around the small glade which he, Cinn and Iri once hung out within. Once again he was left alone in the husk of a tree, freezing at night. His sole comfort, the wooden swords which Hen had made for them, they sat by his side as he tried to sleep off the freezing winds.

* * *

“Argo?” A soft voice called out to him, rousing him from his sleep. Finally, someone had come to visit him. His stomach and bones ached as he reached forward, using the edge of the tree to hoist himself up.

“Yeah?” He called back, voice weak and hoarse. The light burned his skin and eyes alike, but even its cold warmth was a blessing on his frigid skin.

“There you are.” Cinn came to his side. His face was pale, what exactly had happened in the past four days? “Here, I have some food from Iri.” Argo smiled at his friend, where would he be without them? He truly couldn’t know.

“Thank you.” He said, accepting the basket which Cinn gave him, it was heavy, enough for at least three days of food.

“Argo?” Cinn looked at him, his hand running up and down his arm. His teeth bit over the front of his lips.

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t do it right.” The wind’s pace quickened, the leaves above were flung about, many falling down around them. Argo froze. “I mean… It’s not like I think you did… But the council is saying…” He trailed off, eyes staring into the ground. Could Argo even blame him for coming to this opinion?

“No. I didn’t.” Is that why Iri wasn’t here? Did she think Argo a murderer? He felt a lump rise in the back of his throat, his vision grew somewhat blurry as he moved to rest upon a log that the three had fashioned into a bench.

“Great, cause I mean-”.

“Is Wren okay?” Argo cut him off, he didn’t want to hear whatever excuse Cinn had come up with. Cinn paused, his open mouth falling shut as his hand clenched into a fist.

“They’ve decided to try him.”

“What?” Argo stood up almost immediately, dropping the basket in his hand. “I thought he said that they couldn’t do that.”

“He didn’t think that they could. But the council announced yours and his guilt in your escape.” Iri had helped him flee.

“And Iri?” His voice came out flat and his eyes stared forward. His knees began to quiver, he couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose anyone else. Not after what that man had done to his parents.

“She isn’t being held, though her crime is being placed on to his sentence. Councilman Finton wants him executed.” His blood stilled, he couldn’t let someone die for him. He couldn’t let the one adult who had stood up for him die.

“I’m going back.” He stalked back to the tree, head low and hands clenched. His breathing was sharp and heavy as he reached in through the gap in the wood and wrapped his hand around the wooden sword inside. He pulled back, his dark hair hanging over his gaunt face. He turned in the direction and began to pace forward towards Riverfell.

“No, you aren’t Ar,” Cinn spoke, moving in front of him and holding him back.

“Cinn, I can’t let him die for me!” Argo tremored, tears welling in his eyes as his grip on the hilt of the blade tightened. He shoved Cinn aside and began to continue moving.

“Stop for one moment!” He screamed towards Argo who continued to march. Cinn ran forward, bringing his fist back and striking Argo in the back of the head. Driving him face first into the dirt beneath him.

“Why?” Argo whimpered.

“Why? Because you won’t do anything. Think. You aren’t your parents Argo, these are adults. They will simply string you up along with him. Stay here, me and Iri have a plan.” A plan, made by ten year olds, this was doomed to fail. “If you go back you will ruin anything. Now stay put, I’ll be back in two days with more food.” He began to pace away, anger in every step.

“Cinn,” Argo spoke. Cinn turned back to look at him, only then noticing the tears which were falling down his face. “I can’t lose anyone else.” Cinn softened. How had he been wearing such a serious face, it was one befitting of a soldier who had seen too much in conflict. Not a ten year old boy.

“And you won’t.” He turned back. “Just stay here.”

* * *

Argo had food and another blanket. He finally had the energy to move. Whenever he was still he would find his mind wandering back to that night. To the man who had killed his parents, he had asked him his name, what was it? He couldn’t stay still, his thoughts were haunted by his and Wren’s fate, his dreams were only of his failing. His parent's death was on him, Wren’s punishment was on him.

It had been two days since Cinn had visited, he was due back sometime during the day. Argo had spent much of that time with a wooden blade in hand. He circled around a tree, striking against its branches as if it were a person. His sole reprieve was in training. His mind in those moments was of his father and their daily training. Not of his headless corpse, surrounded by a river of blood, but of his father as Argo wished to remember him. A smile on his face, a sword on his hip, practising. The sword struck hard against the branch, it buckled under the force for but a moment before rebounding back up. A series of small scratches and cuts covered the tree’s body, a result of his training. Likewise, blisters and callouses formed on his hand. He never stopped attacking the tree, the sole exceptions being to eat, drink and sleep. To stop was to remember, and he couldn’t let himself do that.

He brought the blade down once more, the branch trembled in its place, buckled under the force of the strike, and then cracked. The next strike drove it from the tree, its impact with the floor sent birds flying away. No thoughts crossed Argo’s mind, he simply had to move on to the next one.

This routine was his method of coping. He had no other choice, all other stimuli faded away whilst training. His rampaging emotions, his desire for revenge against the man in the mask and his need for justice against the council. He lost track of the river streaming by his side, he didn’t focus on the rodents scampering for berries along the forest floor, or the monkeys gathering nuts from the various trees. He didn’t consider the smell of the flowers, of pollen, of himself or of smoke. All he could focus on was his sword and the branch. 

So it was, that when his sword finally snapped against the too thick branch of a tree all those stimuli he had held at bay crushed down onto him. And so it was, that like a thorn in a bush, the smell of smoke stabbed into his nose. His eyes shot towards the origin, towards Riverfell. He apologised to Cinn, he had to see what was happening, he grabbed the third of their three wooden weapons, the only one which had yet to break, and ran off into the dark forest.

* * *

“GET THEM ALL!” A man called out, he was on horseback. The town was being torched, the twenty one finished houses within the town must have all been alight. The markets which Argo, Cinn and Iri spent their time perusing lay crushed and broken. People, few and far between lay dead on the road. Argo knew what was happening, his dad had warned the council about it. The bandits had come.

He knew he had to stay hidden, to be caught would be to die or be sold into slavery, Argo wasn’t sure which was worse. Screams covered the village as men dragged people by hair, arm and foot towards a carriage. They bound them, then threw them without care into the carriage. 

The hairs on the back of his arm stood up, he had to stop this, but how could he? These bandits had his own father worried, they could have even been the reason for his murder. He knew it would be a lost cause to attack them.

He quickly hid behind a stone wall as a group of three men passed by where he was. He thanked the gods that no one had seen him so far. Yet this left him with the dilemma of what to do. He was young, weak, and while he had some knowledge of how to fight with a blade there was no way he was taking down an armed bandit with just a wooden sword. Perhaps if he had his father's knife. But it had been taken by the council. When they came for him and arrested Wren. Maybe he would have a solution.

Argo ran behind buildings towards the council building at the far end of town. If he would free Wren, then just maybe he would be able to do something. His breathing hastened as he ran, if not for the training he had done with his father he would have been too exhausted to keep moving. The sword he held clattered quietly against the walls he ran past, and whilst occasionally one of the bandits would glance in the direction of the noise, he was lucky enough to not be seen. 

The screams of a young boy caught his attention. It was Hen, the man who had made the weapon he held, a local woodworker. The screams turned from anger to pain and then all too quickly were silenced. All Argo could hear was the quiet thump as his body hit the ground. He was only fourteen.

Cries echoed through the town, echoed by the cheers and jeers of the bandits who attacked. Buildings were sacked and then torched, people were slain and taken captive. The terror and havoc formed a symphony. Why had his parents needed to die?

He neared the council building and stopped. Just to the side, he saw a simple wooden gallow. His eyes slowly worked their way up, feet dangled above the air and Argo’s heart stopped. Wren hung, slowly swinging in a circle. A sign was cast over his body, the word traitor written upon it. This hadn’t been the bandits, the council had gone through with it.

“Stay away from her!” The all too familiar voice of Cinn cut through the turmoil of Argo’s mind. He was alive.

“What do you think you’re gonna do boy?” 

“Just leave her alone.” Argo moved closer to him, behind Cinn, sitting on the ground her arms wrapped around her knees, was Iri. Her eyes were stuck wide open. Her shirt’s sleeve was ripped, revealing a large cut, that had since formed a scar. That too was clearly from before today, what had she been through? What had Argo failed to protect her from?

“Yeah right.” Another of the bandits spoke, he brought the flat of his sword back and smashed it towards Cinn’s face. Cinn lunged ahead, the point of the knife in his hand, but as the metal struck the side of his head, his irises faded and he lost consciousness. Teeth and blood in equal parts sprayed from his mouth as he landed on the ground, saliva leaking from the injury. Iri simply buried her head in her knees. She looked like Argo had felt after first waking up following his parent's death.

“Gaff, get the boy, I’ll grab her.” One of the three bandits by them spoke, another grunted in response and grabbed the unconscious body of Cinn and walked off towards the carriage. Argo had to wait, he couldn’t beat them, not a single one of them in a one on one fight. However, perhaps if there was only one he could sneak up behind them. As the second reached for Iri he realised he had no choice, he ran forward, holding the wooden blade behind him.

The man who had spoken turned to look at Argo as he approached, his eyes widening in shock, a slit like smile peeling onto his face. He grabbed his own sword and swiftly blocked Argo’s strike, leaving his blade with a deep cut in it. “And what do you think that toy is doing boy?”

“Argo?” Iri looked up, her eyes confused. “What are you doing here?” Her mind seemed to push aside the thoughts of her dead father at that moment. Argo, however, did not have the time to reply. He quickly brought his sword back and struck again, this time it was blocked faster, easier. The top half of Argo’s blade was cut off, clattering to the floor.

“To think there were so many we hadn’t found. Drop the stick kid and I won’t hurt you.”

“Leave her alone!” He screamed, he still had to save Cinn after dealing with this man. He ran forward, the man tried to use the same attack on Argo, whacking the side of his sword into his head. Argo ducked beneath it, ran forward and stabbed towards the man's chest. Stun him, simply get him open to a head based attack and he could win. The strike hit him. Argo smiled. A shadow loomed behind him. He turned. Another bandit. Everything went black.